


indirection

by northern



Series: where you can always find me [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Market day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	indirection

**Author's Note:**

> Start with part one of the series, or this won't make much sense.
> 
> Thank you Elizaria and Damnslippyplanet!

They go to the market like they do most weekends. Will is only vaguely interested in comparing the quality of produce and leaves it to Hannibal to pick and choose among the offerings in the rows of stalls. This is a good town for buying vegetables with many small and specialized farms selling their wares each weekend during the season and Hannibal wishes that this was something he and Will could share to a greater degree.

He could, however, choose to see Will's indifference in an alternative light — as a man preoccupied with important thought, trusting his companion to perform the task given and not stray. Like a dog, given the leash to carry in his mouth, proudly pacing his master. Hannibal imagines the collar at his throat, how he'd have to be careful so it wouldn't show above his shirt, if Will had put it on him before they left the house.

Hannibal thinks he might not mind it so much, wearing the collar on outings such as this. He can already feel the invisible line connecting them. Wearing Will's mark of ownership would only intensify that sensation. Hannibal finds that he seeks Will's form in the crowd more often today, scans for him until he discovers Will browsing at a stall of household items, or watching a bird on top of an awning, his hand shading his eyes.

Will is in his blood now, in his marrow. It has been true for a while, but Hannibal has just recently begun to experience how profoundly he has been changed. Will's presence inside him is felt on a cellular level, the very building stones of his body shifting to Will's satisfaction. If he wasn't so aware that this would have had nowhere near the effect it is having had anyone else attempted Will's methods, Hannibal would have been jealous. The level of manipulation is stunning.

"Do we need this many apples?" Will asks, taking the small burlap sack of Gravensteins from under Hannibal's arm.

Hannibal hands him the bag of fresh corn as well. "I'll press most of them," he says.

"For juice? I love apple juice."

Hannibal had planned more in the line of apple wine to put away for aging, but watching Will's delighted expression he can imagine postponing it for a few days, procuring another batch of fruit after Will has drunk his fill of chilled sweet juice.

They walk together along one row of stalls. Will halfheartedly looks through a stall with row upon row of tiny glass jars — preserved berries, mostly — while Hannibal scans the nearby offerings for things that might inspire him. He has enough, really, but there is a lot to be said for window shopping.

A family leading a half grown Collie walks past, the dog dancing around their legs in excitement while its owners try and fail to get it to behave. A throng of people is not the place to train a dog as young as this — even Hannibal can see that. Hannibal waits for Will to finish looking at it longingly and then falls in beside him, strolling toward the edge of the market and the parking lot.

"So what are your plans for your dog, then?" he asks.

Will glances sideways at him. "A future dog or the one I have?"

"The one you own," Hannibal says, making sure his tone is light and slightly preoccupied.

"Well," Will says, glancing around, obviously a little bit bothered by their venue. Hannibal smiles, enjoying his upper hand. "Well. I haven't owned my dog for very long. We're still getting comfortable with each other."

"Comfortable." Hannibal watches the people coming and going from the parking lot. There are more leaving than just arriving. The best market hours are the earliest.

"Yes. I've been concentrating on building a bond." Will shifts his burden to his other arm and takes out the car key. "Not much time for anything else."

"So you don't intend to train him, then?" Hannibal asks. The words burn his tongue, but the lightness of the conversation lessens the difficulty.

Will puts his bags in the car, then stands aside for Hannibal to do the same. "I'm not sure yet what his personality would allow for. Look, are you sure you want to talk about it like this?"

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Hannibal asks him.

"Not… precisely, no."

"I don't mind," Hannibal says. It's not altogether true, but it's a lot easier than looking Will in the eye as he tells Hannibal he's a good boy. "I'm curious about your thought processes in this."

"My thought processes in relation to dog ownership?"

Will keeps to the conversation pattern, which is good. He has the key in the ignition, but he doesn't start the car. It might be easier still to talk while Will drives the car, his focus split, but there is no easy way to suggest it without disrupting the path Hannibal wants Will's thoughts to take.

"I've heard people say that dogs get bored easily," Hannibal remarks, watching cars pull in and out of the lot, and not Will. Being indirect in this particular manner seems cowardly to him — like one of his more boring former patients talking around and around the issue without ever daring to meet it head on. There is, however, only so far he can bring himself to go, to actively ask for his own humiliation.

"They do," Will says slowly, "but only when they don't get enough interaction with their owners or other dogs."

Hannibal says nothing, looking out of the window at the bright day, only a few clouds in the sky.

"Maybe I should spend some more time with my dog," Will says. "Teach him a few simple tricks. So he doesn't get bored."

"Hm," Hannibal says. It could be an affirmative, or just a vocalization of a thought. Will can interpret it any way he wants.

There is a moment's silence, dragging on.

"Right," Will says and turns the key in the ignition.


End file.
